


Love in the Time of Allergies

by secondhand_trash



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Crack Treated Seriously, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Other, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25935490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secondhand_trash/pseuds/secondhand_trash
Summary: You were a tattoo artist who loved flowers and he was a florist with pollen allergy.
Relationships: Sakusa Kiyoomi/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 108
Collections: Cadence's Haikyuu imagines





	Love in the Time of Allergies

**Author's Note:**

> This was an idea suggested by a friend and I was down immediately because I just thought that it sounded like so much fun haha

_Playlist:_

_How Long?//Vampire Weekend_

_Pleaser//Wallows_

_Flowers In Your Hair//The Lumineers_

-

If you take a turn at the first corner of the bustling shopping district, you would find yourself in the quieter, older parts of the area. If you wandered through the many narrow lanes, maybe you would get further and further away from the flagships and tall windows of the main avenue in front of the quaint little flower shop hidden away from the noisy crowd, bunches and bunches of bouquets lined up at the windows and pots hanging from the awning.

Sakusa Kiyoomi lived right above that flower shop, which he coincidentally runs.

Every morning, he woke up to the sun shining through the thin linen of his curtains. The streets were already alive by the time he was awake. The sounds of delivery vans driving past his window, the crisp bells of school children riding along the road to school on their bicycles ticking his still hazy senses. He was not a snoozing type of person by all means, immediately getting up to get his day starting the moment he paused his alarm. Then he would fold up his sheets neatly, getting them in the washing machine so he could replace it with the ones that had just finished drying the night before. Sakusa always made cleaning the first thing he does right after he wakes up, it made him feel productive and he relished in the feeling that his space was spotless at every corner. 

By the time he was done, it would be time for him to go downstairs to open up the store and get ready to receive the batches of fresh flowers that were delivered every day. If he pushed open his windows, the sweet smell of flowers together with the morning air would fill his room.

A florist with a face that looked like he walked out of an ink portrait from the old times, just him standing there could be worthy as a still from any movie scene. Long, nimble fingers placing each stem right where it belong, the beauty marks above his brow moving as the man furrowed his eyes in concentration like the morning dew sliding off the white petals of a blooming flower.

A beautiful man and beautiful flowers. It would have been a breathtaking sight if you could ignore the fact that the florist was sadly, severely allergic to the flowers that he was surrounded with at every waking moment of his life.

Sakusa himself would like to argue that you could not, and should not, brush off such an important detail to his survival. Thank you very much.

How did he become a florist in the first place if he was allergic to flowers, you may ask. Well, He didn’t know. One day, he was filling in for his cousin who couldn’t attend his shift because he had dropped ill. Said cousin might have deliberately hidden up the fact that he was working at a place that sells flowers and by the time Sakusa arrived at the storefront feeling like he got struck by thunder, it was too late.

It was a pity that he was such a natural, so much so that he received a phone call from the then shop owner asking if he could come back the next day.

Sakusa still thought about that day occasionally. What had he done to himself, he looked at the sky and let out a long sigh.

Sakusa Kiyoomi was inclined to believe that he must have committed some sort of indescribable crime in his last lifetime to deserve this cruel joke from the universe.

Pulling up the latex gloves, he released the elastic band with a snap as it sit snugly on his wrist. He had his protective suit on, the white plastic covering him from his neck all the way down his legs. He had his mask and mask cover (yes, the mask needed its own cover) on before pulling his hood over and making sure that all his hair was tugged in.

Looking at the mirror, he let out a satisfied hum. Perfect, now all he needed to do was wait for the truck to arrive.

“Hello! Your delivery is here!” 

The deliveryman was a new employer of the company, his uniform neatly buttoned up all the way. He checked his reflection in the window from outside the shop, reminding himself to put on a good smile when greeting the client. It was his first time going out for delivery on his own without a senior tagging along and he intended to leave a good impression.

He shifted his weight from one foot to another while waiting for someone to answer the door. He looked around the street, taking in a deep breath of the morning air. It was a rumor among employers that there was a living urban myth on this street, one that looked like it walked out of a chemical waste field in a dystopian novel was what they said. He chuckled to himself when he recalled how terrified they looked at the describe the myth. Look at the street with its sunshine and serenity, they should at least pick a more suiting location for the lie if they wanted to prank the newbie.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“It’s alright! Please notify me after you checked if all the stock is correct,” he said with a wide smile as he turned around to where the footsteps were coming from, “mr- AH!!!!!!!”

-

A few blocks away, you paused when you heard an ear piercing scream from outside. 

“Did you hear something?” your manager asked, looking out of the shop window with a confused look, “I swore I heard someone screaming.”

You tilted your head, looking away from the poster you were trying to hang onto the wall to follow where they were looking at. There were no panicking or people running to take cover so it didn’t seem like something major had happened. You shook our head, “Maybe it’s the sound of tires screeching?”

“Hm,” they glanced outside in wary but turned back to the empty store with a sigh, “is the backroom all set up?”

Your arms withhold in the air for a moment as you tried to see if the frame was before clasping your hands together in satisfaction before climbing off the stool you were standing on to turn and face your manager, “Yeah, I told the people to place all the chairs down as you said and all we needed to do was to unpack our tools, loaded up the shelves and we’re all done.”

“Ok, good,” they let out a heavy breath, placing their hands on both sides of their waist, “I still can’t believe the landlord of our last place can just take back the lot just like that.”

“Hey, they want to sell it to a big corp for quick bulk of cash instead of renting it out to a tattoo parlor, not that it doesn’t make sense,” you said with a click of your tongue, a loop-sided grin making its way onto your face as they chuckled at the saltiness you were not holding back at all, “at least we managed to find a new place fast.”

“Well, that’s true,” they said, “this seems like a pretty nice street.”

Other than the fact that someone screamed like they walked out of a horror movie in the morning out of nowhere, you thought to yourself but nodded no less as you two stood side by side and looking out of glass windows, trying to not think too much of it.

The fact was, you were just glad that you still had a job. It felt like the sky fell on your head when you walked into your humble little workplace one day to see the heavy expression everyone was wearing only to be told that the lease for the parlor would not be renewed next term. It wasn’t easy to just find a new place to rent so quickly nowadays and the possibility that you might go jobless for months horrified you to no end. 

You liked the parlor you worked in. You had heard your fair share of horror stories of how some places mistreat their apprentices before you made the commitment of applying to become one and even though you were scared out of your mind while you asked if the place was still taking apprentices after being turned down numerous times already, it was nothing short of luck that you ended up being under a group of very nice people when you actually did succeed. You had been in this parlor for several years now, staying behind even after you got your license. You liked the homely little shop and you most definitely loved working for the owner who taught you so much so you couldn’t be more glad when they came in just a week before everything at the old place must be cleared out saying that a new lot had been secured. 

You now needed to wake up a good hour earlier than before and take a bus that you were sure would take you to the other end of the town if you overslept by one station just so you could make it to work on time, but no complaints. At least the street looked nice, and there was a flower shop just a few blocks away from the parlor which you were very happy about. 

You liked flowers, you had always found them to be great inspirations.

“Hello?”

A crisp ring of the bell interrupted the silence you were having while you two quietly unwrapped all the tools and whip them clean before putting them in place at the back.

“Can you go get it? I think it might be some of the other decorations being delivered over.” they said, staring at the little scratch at the back of one of the lamps with a painful expression in their eyes as they realised that it could not be rubbed away no matter how hard they tried.

You pushed away the bubble wrap that was piling up on your legs before standing up, dusting off the plastic strands before walking out to the front of the store.

“Hello- ah!” 

You jumped when you saw a.. well you weren’t sure if that was a person because there was no face for you to identify but they had to be because you could not begin to process what else they might be underneath the full body plastic suit paired with what almost looked like a bee hat, standing at the front door with their arms stiffly extended and holding a flower basket in hand.

Your breath was rigid as you tried to calm yourself down, slowly getting back into a proper posture as you tried to ignore the million questions running through your head. 

“Hello,” the voice sounded a bit distant from behind the mask but you could still make it out to be the voice of a young man. “I’m Sakusa from the flower shop a few blocks away.”

“Oh. Oh, _oh,_ nice to meet you," you blurted out, giving a slight bow when you realised that you were still standing there in a daze, never feeling so confused as to when the person replied to your panicking gestures with a slight nod, “I’m (y/l/n), I’m one of the tattoo artists who work at the parlor.”

So this was the person who runs the flower shop? You tried to control yourself from making it too obvious that you were stealing glances at his more than peculiar attire for walking on the street under broad daylight. You weren’t aware that florists had to dress in bee suits.

Sakusa raised his already raised hand a little, “This is a welcoming gift for your opening.”

“Ah, thank you so much,” you said, gingerly taking a few steps forward to take the flower basket from his glove covered hands. He seemed to be relieved after you took the flowers away from him, letting out a soft sigh and relaxing his shoulders.

“If you need any help please always feel free to come over,” he said, sounding rather unnatural as he stayed where he was, maintaining a fixed distance from you.

“Of course,” you replied, standing with your back just a little straighter at the sheer tension that you were feeling under the stare of a man whose face you could not even see, “thank you for the flowers.”

He gave you another nod before walking out the door and you waited, standing there until he was completely out of your sight and let out the breath you had been holding in.

That was strange, you thought to yourself as you took a look at the basket you were holding.

Hm, the arrangement was very pretty though.

-

At first, you were very hesitant to even go near the radius of the glass door with flower pots hanging down. Could you be blamed? Who wouldn’t be intimidated by a person who showed up in a full body plastic suit? But eventually, your urge to find good references for your sketches gave won over your prejudice and you gathered up all your courage one day while you didn’t have any bookings and walked into the flower shop a few blocks away. 

You weren’t sure if you were more bewildered or satisfied by your predictions being correct when you walked in to see him standing by the counter being covered from head to toe. Sakusa still looked as stiff as he was when he showed up at the parlor last time when he was in his own store, watering the flowers with this oddly long sprinkler. 

You still felt that to be pretty strange but you were determined that no matter what, you were not walking away from that place emptyhanded.

Surprisingly, he was not as hard to approach as you had thought he might be and he was very helpful when you were overwhelmed by the many pots lining the store, pointing to the bunch of colourful daisies at the far corner when you told him you wanted something that looked delicate.

You started ordering bouquets from Sakusa’s store regularly a while later.

This did not look right. You stared at the black lines on the paper, feeling like your head was about to explode at how you could not point out what was exactly wrong with it but it simply didn’t look like the image you had in your head. Throwing the pen down, you leaned back against the couch in the front room with an exasperated sigh as you glanced at the hand on the clock that tilted more and more as each second passed.

What happened to delivery at 3pm sharp?

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” you jumped up at the sound of the door being pushed open and Sakusa walked in with a bouquet of carnation in hand. He was still covered but even without seeing his face, you could tell how he rushed over with the slight heaving in his voice, “there was a... dire situation back at the shop and I had to get that handled before I can make the delivery.

Sakusa shivered as he recalled how there was this customer who kept sneezing while walking around the store. 

“It’s alright,” you said, getting up from the couch where you were laying on, “can you help me put it in the backroom?”

“Of course.”

“Just putting it here would be alright.” you gestured to the small table at the corner and he nodded before putting the ceramic pot down.

From the corner of his eyes, he spotted the last several bouquets and pots you got from him the past week lined up on the shelf at another side of the room. Sakusa tilted his head. He had regular customers but none that showed up as often as you did and none that bought flowers for no specific reason at all other than to look at them. “Do you like flowers that much?"

He wasn’t sure what it was about the look of pure fascination in your eyes when you looked away from the colourful flowers to face him, but he felt an unexplained antsy feeling rising at the back of his neck.

“I guess it’s not so much of a sentimental liking than just admiration,” you crossed your arms in front of your chest, “they can be so simple but so detailed all at the same time,” you chuckled, “I find all my best works to be of floral patterns.”

You could not see his face behind the mesh net but you could guess that he was probably squinting his eyes right now with the way his body bent just a little forward. He was interesting to observe, and you had found quite a bit of entertainment in watching him.

“Here,” his eyes widened when you rolled up your sleeves with a laugh. He was wondering how you didn’t seem to have any tattoos on your unlike the other artists who he had met but it seemed like you just didn’t feel as much of a need to put them on display at all times. Under the white sleeves that now rest on your elbow, there were inked lines littering all across your arm, stopping at your wrist and he could only imagine that the vines would go further up into where the faintly see-through fabric was covering.

“This is the first tattoo I ever did on my own,” you said, tilting your arm so that he could see the sunflower on the inside of your wrist, “this is a gift to myself after I finished my apprenticeship.”

“My actual first tattoo though,” you lifted your arm up, showing him the morning glory that peaked out from under your sleeve, hanging on the vines that hugged the side of your arm, “is this one,” you had a look of nostalgia in your eyes like you were greeting an old friend, “I got it the moment I turned 18 without my parents knowing, to remind myself to be resilient like morning glories that climb high even on stone walls.”

He felt like he was invading some sort of precious intimacy that was supposed to be sealed up and savoured when you gently hooked your finger under the collar of your shirt, pulling it to the side just enough for him to see the dots of baby’s breath above your collar like tiny stars.

“But this one is my favourite. I got it because... well...” you poked your tongue out before pushing the folded collar back in place, “I just think it looks nice.”

Sakusa didn’t quite understand what the aesthetic appeal of flowers that you seemed to be so fixated on was. He worked with flowers but they weren’t anything that means much to him unless you count “mortal danger” as a special meaning. But as he watched you fix your shirt, the botanicas on your skin once again hidden from sight by the silky fabric that fell down like morning mist in the market street, he found himself sparing another glance to the flowers he just handed to you and wondered what they would become under your pencil and ink.

“Do you keep all of them around?” he asked, referring to the many different flowers that didn’t look like they go together on the shelf. 

“Sometimes I’ll let clients take away the ones that I already sketched if they like it but I kinda just put them here the rest of the time,” you replied, touching one of the petals of the tulips that were sitting in a vase, “it’s quite a pity that I can’t put them in the front but the manager said it doesn’t fit the rest of the décor.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, even though it’s not like you could see him do so with the cover of the black mesh, and said something that surprised even himself once it was vocalised.

“If what you need is a reference for your sketches, you can always come over and look at the ones we have on display.”

“Really?” you did not hide the sheer excitement you had towards his suggestion, only to back down sheepishly when you realised how eager you were, “But would that be much of a bother to you?”

He was never much of a people person. He had a very carefully selected few close friends around him and he did not intend to broaden his circle any time sooner. He barely even wanted to interact with his customers all that much if it wasn’t for the fact that he needed the business, if he was being honest. His palms were starting to feel clammy from the sweat that wasn’t there just earlier, a feeling he very much so dread but the twist in his stomach that he could not begin to understand somehow hazed over this usual discomfort.

“Well, if you are only sitting there and sketching I don’t see that to be much of an issue...” he said, his voice getting tinier and tinier like he was starting to be confused over his own words. 

You walked him out of the parlor with a very, very wide smile that day, thanking him again and again and joking that it was too late for him to take his offer back now because you were going to start annoying him daily. He wanted to argue that you already went around for your flowers often enough that making it a daily occurrence wouldn’t be much of a difference but he bite it back, worried that it would come out harsher than he had meant it and gave you the impression that he actually didn’t want to talk to you.

Which was strange, considering how he never really thought that he actually did want that to happen.

-

You started showing up at his shop every day, as you had said you would. 

At first, your interaction with him was limited to the brief exchange of greetings when you walked into the store, informing the working Sakusa that you would look around yourself and he didn’t need to worry about you. You used to spend so long just standing there and sketch, stretching your neck that was sore from drooping down every once in a while. You said he didn’t need to pay any attention to you but as the owner, he still felt somewhat of a responsibility to show his care about his visitors’ well-being. Then one day, you showed up at his place again only to find a little bar stool by the counter.

You looked at the suited man at the side and he looked away from under the mask under your stare. “I got you a chair because you are here for very long each time,” he added under your appreciative stare, “people are gonna get the impression that everyone can just walk in and do the same.”

So you now had your own designated spot in his shop, right by the counter where he worked. 

You started actually chatting to him after then and you liked to think that you two were friends, even though you still didn’t know what he looked like under the bee hat.

Until one day, when you went along the sidewalk of the peaceful street to the flower shop a few blocks away and saw a strange man struggling at the front door.

You froze in place, taking a few steps closer to the walls so he would not notice you too easily.

Who was this? You looked on warily at the lean figure that was shaking the lock on the glass door rather vigorously, seeming to be more and more frustrated with each moment passed. You could not see his face clearly with the dark curls that fell onto the side of his face. He was dressed in full black, black shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black trousers that only accentuated how long his limbs were. The attire did little to help with your suspicion that he was not there for a proper purpose, seeing how he was starting to shake the handle of the door and let out a tired groan when it stayed closed.

Would it be someone trying to break in? In the middle of the day? Oh god, you felt the blood drain from your face when you realised what this meant.

Sakusa would have a breakdown if some unknowns leave dead skin cells over all his things.

“Um... excuse me?” you gathered up your bravery and walked towards the man, slightly taken back when he snapped around to look at you. He was way taller upfront and you gulped.

To your surprise, he didn’t look shocked when you approached him. In fact, he seemed to have calmed down a little from his earlier irritation with the lock upon seeing you.

“Did I not tell you we are closing early today?” he said, crouching forward slightly.

“Oh, I’m just here to look for a friend...” you paused, your eyes widening when you heard how familiar his voice was, “wait... Sakusa?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, brushing the piece of hair that had fallen onto his face away from his eyes. “Yes?”

You were so prepared to fight whoever it was that might be busting the lock open but you were not prepared for this. You were so used to seeing Sakusa in his full body protection gear that the idea of him being this faceless entity got so comfortable in your head, seeing him as someone with actual facial features and expressions made you feel like you were meeting a whole new person all over again. He was staring at you, bending even forward as he waited for you to say something in confusion. The posture allowed you to take a clearer look at his face, and somehow it sent more adrenaline to your system than the nerves you got from thinking that you were about to witness a crime.

Wait, hold up. Why did no one tell you that he was hot?

From the angle you were at, your eyes immediately caught on to the sharp arch of his eyebrows, the two moles on one side dotted on like ink on white paper. His bone structure was pronounced, the defined curve lining his eyes going down to the tip of his nose. He was looking down at your through his long lashes, his lips pursed as he waited for you to say something.

You felt a slight regret rising in your chest for his face that was wasted away because its owner decided to dress like a b-movie crazy scientist.

“Why are you trying to break into your own store?” you asked, breaking the silence when you realised that you had been staring at him like some dazed fool.

He let out a mumbled groan, pressing his lips together into a thin line. “I forgot my mask at the counter before I left but now the door is doing that thing where it gets stuck and couldn’t turn the key,” he turned back to the door, putting both hands on the handle and yanked.

“Do you need help?” you asked, peaking from behind him.

“Please do,” he sighed and you held onto the frame of the door, “I’ve already been exposed to the air for far too long for-” he gritted his teeth as he gave it another pull.

“My-” a slam on the door pushed the rest of the key that was stuck into the porthole.

“Liking-” 

The door crashed open with a loud bang and you stumbled forward to regain your balance. He sucked in a deep breath when he felt the sweat on his palm, walking as fast as he could to the counter and let out a relieved sigh when he pulled out another one of his white medical masks.

“Why are you closing early today?” you leaned on the counter as you watched him physically relaxed after hooking the cotton band over his ears.

“I’m heading to the flower market today to look for new suppliers,” he said as he pressed down on the wire on the bridge of his nose, “the one we were working with suddenly said they can’t do business anymore because the delivery company refused to send people here which is very strange.”

“I see,” you said, “I was gonna hang around here because I don’t have any more bookings for today, I’ll come back tomorrow then.”

“You can come with me if you want,” he blurted out, his own eyes widening as he paused, “it might be very boring though.”

“Wait, I had never been there before, can I?” you gasped, “I want to go!”

“Ok.” he said rather stiffly, not expecting you to be so excited about what he viewed to be a rather blend thing to do.

He did not know what it was that made goosebumps rose on his arm when you followed him out of the shop, taking a few steps for each on he took just to keep up with him. It was like how it felt when he used to be less careful and got too close to the plants that he worked with, tickling and irritating and made him want to tear his own skin off but not nearly as unpleasant. In fact, he would go as far as to described the feeling as “fuzziness” when you kept talking to him on the way even though he rarely replied with more than a few short sentences.

“Sakusa, can I ask you something?”

Your voice broke him out of his running state of mind.

“Yes?”

“Why do you always wear a full body suit?"

"I'm allergic to flowers.”

“What?” he grimaced at the reaction he had expected, already knowing what you were going to say next.

It was a mistake, Sakusa grumbled to himself as he recounted how his life seemed to be full of mistakes, starting from becoming a florist even though he was highly sensitive to pollen.

“Then how did you become a florist-”

"Please don’t ask.”

“Ok.”

-

“Remember to leave the cover on for the next two hours and wash it with lukewarm water,” you said to your last client with a smile as you opened the door for them, "and just contact us if you need any help with the aftercare.”

You let out a satisfied sigh when they happily waved at you before exiting your sight. There was no better feeling than to see someone being so happy about the piece you did for them. You stretched out your arms, rolling your neck as your back cracked. That took a while, you let out a slight whine when you felt the knot on your shoulder. You found yourself to be the type that emerged themselves into their work completely once started on something which you view to be a good thing but that also meant that your notifications were always blown up every time you did a slightly bigger, more detailed piece.

You recalled your phone to buzz non-stop during the appointment until you got annoyed and turned off the sound completely. Taking it out of your pocket, you took one of your gloves off to unlock your screen.

Your eyes widened at the amount of miscalls and messages that came from Sakusa, who had given you his number after you annoyed him into saving yours. He rarely called you, you were always the one spamming his inbox when he was trying to put you on read.

You had a bad feeling about what had happened when you saw another incoming call from the man who had been bombing your phone.

“Hello-”

“Come over.”

“What?” you said. His voice was pressed down even lower than usual and you clutched your phone closer to your face to hear him clearly. 

“Please just... come over. Come over quick.” he hissed.

“What is going on? Sakusa are you ok?” you felt the panic building up in your chest at the tone he used. 

“I am facing a critical situation and you’re the only help I can get-”

“Ok,” you didn’t wait for him to finish before hastily pushing the door to the street and paced to the direction of the flower shop, “I’m coming over now.”

“Thank you,” he let out a shaky breath, “and please be quick.”

You nearly went over the front door of the shop with how much of a rush you were in. Looking in through the window, the shop was completely empty and you could not even find Sakusa anywhere.

Oh god, what was it that got him in such a crunch?

“Hello?” you asked gingerly as you stepped inside, "Is anyone here? Sakusa?”

There was no one in there. You furrowed your eyebrows as you walked deeper into the stores and past the vases that lined up at the sides.

“Psst..”

You snapped towards where the sound came from.

“Sakusa- ah!” you yelped when you were suddenly yanked down to the floor. You blinked when you saw who it was that suddenly pulled you behind the counter.

“Sakusa, why are you hiding under here?”

You felt bad for finding the very tall, very well-built Sakusa who was once again wrapped up in his plastic suit all curled up under the counter, even more so when you saw that he was actually sitting on a plastic sheet instead of on the bare ground. 

Even if he was finding somewhere to hide, he still uphold his principals.

“There’s this...” he shivered, “ _thing_ out there crawling around...”

“Thing? Crawling?” you tilted your head as you looked out, “I didn’t see anything?”

“Well of course you don’t. They are fast and tiny and black and...” he shivered again, shaking his head a little as if trying to shake away his thoughts.

“Fast and tiny and black...” you paused, “you mean a cockroach-”

“Do not say it out loud,” he gritted.

“I’m sorry for saying this but thank god,” you let out a deep breath, “I thought you were being held at gun point or something...”

“How is this any better?” he asked in disbelief, “please help me get rid of it...”

“Sakusa I’m not gonna be your personal bug killer-”

“Before I burn this place down-”

“Ok,” you said with your hands thrown up, telling him to stay put and hold back from doing any property damage. You sighed as you stood up, “Thank god I rushed out in such a hurry that I still have my gloves with me...”

Sakusa finally knew what that burning irritation he felt whenever you gush at him was when he peeked from behind the counter to see you swiftly trapping the cockroach under a plastic bag and swept it up with your gloved hands before taking it out to the street. He felt a rapid rhythm drumming in his chest when he heard a loud stomp from outside, his black eyes following your frame when you came back in with a sigh as you skillfully removed your gloves from inside out and tied them together.

“Um...” he felt the slightest bit uneased as he climbed out from his hiding spot, suddenly feeling small even though he was clearly towering over you, “thanks.”

“It’s alright,” you said with a chuckle, “can’t have you dying on me like that.”

He had never been glad about his allergies until now, feeling just a little bit more self-assured because even though his mind was in shambles from the sudden realisation he had, at least he had the mask to hide his face that he was sure to be flushed from you.

“Do you need help sanitising everything?”

"What?” his voice came out as a whisper.

“Well,” you said matter-of-factly, crossing your arms in front of your chest, “I assume you won’t just let it be after that co- that thing got in here?”

“Yeah," he stood up just a little straighter, “yeah, of course.”

Sakusa felt an unexplained taste in his mouth. It was a bit bitter, the dryness making his jaw clenched but he also couldn’t help the muscle at the corner of his mouth from inching up higher and higher as he watched you scrubbing the counter with a cleaning wipe, your forehead crinkling up in concentration

He was so, so in love.

-

You dropped everything at hand and ran out the door when you got his message.

“Can you come over?”

What was it? What was it this time? 

You ignored the bewildered glances from the passersby as you dashed along the otherwise serene street. 

Was it a bug? Did someone sneeze near him? Did some idiot broke the vases and got muddy water on him again? There’s no way that could happen twice in a week, right? Right?

You were heaving by the time you got to his place, nearly tripping into the shop as you tried to collect your breath. Sakusa was standing in front of the counter and facing the door, oddly without his usual bee hat. He felt his stomach twisting in knots as you held yourself up by the door with one hand and the other clutching your chest as you panted.

He did not expect you to show up so quickly. He had thought that he would have some more time to collect himself after pressing “send” with his shaking hands so he could look, well, somewhat _cooler_ doing what he planned to do after a lot of inner conflicts.

“Ok, I’m here,” your hair was a mess as you looked up, your chest still heaving from the run, “what is it? What happened? What do I need to do?”

“Um...”

“Oh god, why aren’t you talking? how bad is it?” you said as you slowly straightened your posture, only to feel your breath hitched when you saw why he was in silence.

Sakusa seemed to be in clear discomfort, his eyes shifting around as his throat bobbed. But it wasn’t his usual look of wariness or discontent and instead, he seemed to be nervous.

And then you saw the bunch of red roses he was holding in hand.

“You know,” he gulped, holding his arm out as stretched out as he could, “a dozen roses means ‘be mine’ in flower language.”

You blinked, your eyes slowly widening as he looked away.

“Sakusa,” you licked your lips, a grin finding it’s way to your face, “are you trying to say something?”

“I said,” he gritted from his teeth, his face burning up under your teasing tone, “be mine.”

You bite at the inside of your cheeks, your face aching from the smile that was only growing wider. In your ear, you could hear the steady drumming tapping at you, sending the signal everywhere in your body as you felt the warmth that spread together with it.

Say yes, say yes, say yes...

“Of course.”

He let out a hitched breath as his shoulders drooped, pouting a little when he looked back at you as if he was blaming you for poking fun at him earlier.

“Look, I’m sorry,” the look of resentment only grew when you started giggling, “but you were so cute just then, I couldn’t help myself.”

He grumbled and your giggling turned into actual laughs while he glared at you but couldn’t hide the blush on his face.

“It doesn’t matter as long as I say yes, right?” 

"Sure,” he let out a soft tsk, “but can you please take this?”

“Is that really the way to go at it-”

“I feel like I can’t breathe.”

“Oh, _oh_ ,” you said when you suddenly remembered his allergy and rushed to take the roses from him, “of course, of course...”

If you take a turn at the first corner of the bustling shopping district, you would find yourself in the quieter, older parts of the area. There was a quaint little flower shop hidden away from the noisy crowd and a tattoo parlor a few blocks away, but you already knew that. You also knew that as bewildering as it sounded, the florist that run the shop was actually deadly allergic to flowers.

But what you didn’t know (or at least pretend not to so he wouldn’t feel too embarrassed) was that for you, the tattoo artist who loved flowers, the florist who was allergic to flowers wouldn’t mind taking off his plastic suit and hand deliver fresh flowers to you every day just to see you smile.

-

~~Bonus~~

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes.”

“Really.”

“Yes,” Sakusa said with a deadpan face as he sat on the chair.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” he replied, even though his entire body was tensed up.

“Ok,” you said, leaning closer to him, “promise me you won’t regret this.”

“Yes.”

“Ok,” you said in a breathy tone, gulping as you placed you held the edge of the tattoo chair for leverage, “I’m gonna do it.”

“Ok.”

You took a deep breath, staring at your boyfriend who had his eyes pressed tightly together as you lifted your hand.

His eyes snapped open at the light peck you placed on his lips.

Look, look. This might seem dramatic but this was a huge step for him, alright?

You blinked, nervous about what he might be thinking, “how was it?”

He seemed to be dazed, his eyes flickering between your lips and your eyes that were fixed on him.

Nothing could stop the surprised gasp you let out when he suddenly latched onto you and kissed you much more firmly, not letting you move away with his hand at the back of your head.

Your breathing was rapid when he finally let you go, your face heating up when he poked his tongue out and swiped it along his bottom lip.

“I think I might actually like this more than I thought I would.”

**Author's Note:**

> [*tip jar uwu*](https://ko-fi.com/secondhand_trash)


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